


So Fine and It's All Mine

by msraven



Series: Trope Bingo Round 3 Blackout [11]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Reverse Chronology, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-10
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>5 times Clint chooses Phil's clothes and 1 time Phil does it himself.</p><p>Imagine a 'verse where Phil isn't the fashionable, suit-loving one in the relationship. </p><p>A fill for the role reversal square on my trope_bingo card.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Fine and It's All Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Jeremy Renner's recent, gorgeous clothing choices and [this post](http://msraven929.tumblr.com/post/76017247038/nerdwegian-ajacquelineofalltrades-i-think) on tumblr. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to kultiras for encouraging this idea and for helping me get the last section right. 
> 
> Title from Justin Timberlake's "Suit & Tie"

**5.**  
"Uh, guys? Is that Hawkeye?"

Everyone stops what they're doing and looks across the tarmac at the blonde man striding confidently in their direction. None of them, except Hawkeye, see the warm smile that breaks across Phil's face at the sight.

"Yes. Yes, it is," Phil replies, not bothering to hide the pride in his voice.

Clint is looking particularly dashing today, wearing his grey leather jacket—a new favorite of his—over a light sweater, dark jeans, and his usual combat boots. It all looks deceptively casual, but Phil knows first-hand that every aspect of the outfit has been carefully chosen, up to and including the smirk on Clint's face. 

Phil walks down the ramp and onto the pavement to intercept Clint, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from his team as he passes by them. Clint's eyes sweep over Phil, taking in the senior agent's less-than-normal appearance—a SHIELD tac jacket over his usual dress shirt, but no tie. Even his slacks, which are all that remain of Phil's usual suits, look more than a little worse for wear. 

Clint raises a questioning eyebrow as they continue walking toward one another and Phil responds with a slight shake of his head and a mild eye roll. Clint's surprise visit must mean that he's already aware of everything that's happened over the last few, hellish days. 

The two of them don't stop walking until they're well within each other's personal space, the toes of their shoes nearly touching.

"Barton," Phil greets. 

"Sir."

Phil tilts his chin toward the hangers hooked on Clint's fingers and the garment bag draped behind his shoulder. "Was it really necessary for you to come all the way to Livorno just to bring me new clothes?

" _Just_ for that, no. I never need an excuse to want to see you," Clint smiles and Phil refuses to be embarrassed by how he melts a little. "Although…" Clint leans back to sweep his eyes over Phil again before shaking his head. "Mel said you were almost down to wearing sweats and it doesn't look like she was that far off."

"I can be trusted to buy myself a suit to get me by."

Clint throws his head back and laughs, leaving Phil too busy enjoying the sound to be offended. "No, you really can't be. You would have gone and bought something off the rack regardless of how badly it fit. We both know you're not going to stand still for a suit fitting without my being there to provide adequate incentive."

"True," Phil concedes, a pleasant warmth running over him at the memory of the last suit fitting he'd had in New York. Many of their most athletic and intense lovemaking has come after Phil's fittings and, most memorably, the one time Phil had been there to watch one of Clint's.

Phil stops resisting temptation and reaches out, finally touching his husband again after over a month apart. The leather is butter-soft over Clint's firm muscles as Phil places one hand on Clint's chest and the other on his bicep. Clint's grin softens into a fond smile and he drops the large duffel he's holding to place a hand on Phil's hip.

"Hi Clint."

"Hey Phil. I've missed you."

"Likewise. I'm glad you're here."

Clint beams and nods toward the Bus. "Think I could catch a ride back to HQ with you?"

"I can do you one better," Phil replies after a moment's thought. "How about we stay and find our own way home later? This has been a hellish week, I haven't seen you in six weeks, and Fury still owes me some _real_ time off."

The happiness in Clint's eyes dims a little at the reminder and Phil squeezes his arm in apology before continuing his original train of thought. "We can take at least a week. Stay here in Italy or maybe head to Paris? I know you've been dying for us to go to Arny's."

"Here. Let's rent a villa in Tuscany I can spend the week making sure you spend as little time as possible wearing clothes."

"I can get behind that plan."

Phil let's his smirk match Clint's and slides his hand up to the back of his neck, pulling his husband in for a proper greeting. He sees Clint's eyes widen slightly at such a public display, but he recovers quickly once their lips meet. After all these years together, it's still gratifying to know that, for as much as Clint enjoys dressing Phil in all these fancy suits, there is still nothing Clint loves more than stripping Phil out of them.

 

 **4.**  
Phil comes awake to the smell of coffee and a freshly-showered Clint. The bed dips and Phil automatically curls toward his husband, burrowing a little into Clint's thigh.

"Five more minutes."

"Okay," Clint responds, running his fingers lightly through Phil's hair, "but no griping if I finish the coffee before you wake up."

"Meanie," Phil grumbles good-naturedly, rolling onto his back and looking expectantly up at Clint until he dutifully bends down to give Phil a quick kiss.

"Good morning."

"Mmmm. Very good morning," Phil agrees and moves to sit up against the headboard, gratefully accepting the large mug Clint hands him and taking a lengthy sip. "You're spoiling me."

"Need to make sure you look forward to coming home."

Phil reaches out to grip Clint's hand even though he knows his husband is only teasing. "Leaving you is never easy."

"Sap," Clint responds, bumping his shoulder lightly against Phil's, careful not to jostle the hot cup of coffee. "Not that I don't enjoy hearing it, but I already know. Besides, I like spoiling you."

Phil grins and leans in for another kiss, letting Clint steal the coffee back in the process. They sit quietly, enjoying their last peaceful moments together and passing the coffee back and forth until it's finished. Unable to hold back the start of the day any longer, Clint prods Phil into the bathroom to shower. A pair of boxers and an undershirt are folded next to the sink when Phil emerges, making him smile goofily through the rest of his morning routine. He steps out of the bathroom with a spring to his step and then stops in his tracks. 

Clint is standing at the foot of the bed, where a new suit Phil has never seen before is carefully laid out. All of Phil's suits are new—his old ones casualties of the weeks Clint spent believing Phil was dead. They still have not quite forgiven Nick for keeping Phil's survival a secret from Clint and for keeping Phil on enough medication to keep him from questioning his husband's absence during his recovery. 

Phil steps up to the bed and touches the dark grey fabric of the suit. "It looks just like…"

"I know it was your favorite," Clint explains, looking at the two shirts sitting next to the suit and finally picking up the striped one. He moves toward Phil, motioning for him to turn around so that Clint can help him into the shirt.

Phil shrugs on the shirt, spinning back around to face Clint at the slight pressure on his shoulder, and letting Clint do up the buttons. "I thought you didn't…?"

Clint only shrugs and continues buttoning, eyes fixed on the center of Phil's chest. During the process of replenishing Phil's wardrobe, Clint had made a point of not recreating any of Phil's old suits, picking new colors, fabrics, and cuts that Phil didn't question. This suit looks very similar to the one Phil wore the most often, nearly the same shade and cut, but made with a much higher grade of material from the feel of it. Phil realizes that this is Clint's way of helping him feel more comfortable during his first official day back at HQ.

"I love you."

Clint rolls his eyes, but smiles as he hands Phil the suit pants. "Here."

Phil puts his pants on, sitting on the bed to pull on his socks and shoes while Clint debates over the four ties he's pulled off the rack. He finally chooses a grey-on-grey patterned tie, looping it around Phil's neck as he stands again, and then tying it perfectly with an efficiency that Phil still covets. Phil reaches down for the jacket, slipping it on, and then pulling on his shirt cuffs while Clint nods approvingly. 

There's a moment's pause while Clint just looks at Phil and then he steps forward to give him a lingering kiss. Phil chases Clint's lips as he breaks the kiss and is rewarded with another quick kiss before Clint takes a small step back. Clint smooths down Phil's tie and lapels, giving Phil a confident smile.

"I love you, too. Now go show them that Agent Coulson is still a badass."

 

 **3.**  
The door to the cabin creaks open loudly, startling Phil awake. He bolts upright and is stopped by Clint's voice before Phil can reach for his gun.

"Sorry. Thought you'd be awake by now."

Phil looks across the room to where Clint is juggling several bags as he closes and secures the door. It's tempting to lay back down—the bed is decently comfortable and Phil knows he's still several days short of sleep—but they're literally not out of the woods yet and they can lobby for time off once they're done with this hellacious mess of an op.

"What time is it?" Phil asks, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

"Nearly noon. The town's about a forty minute hike down from here. No sign we're being pursued and I've made contact with HQ. Extraction tomorrow night."

Most of the tension leaves Phil's shoulders at Clint's words. It feels like they've been chased across all of Canada over the past week and it's a relief to know they're that much closer to making it out. Phil is certain that no other team would have fared as well as he and Clint have under the same circumstances.

"You're amazing."

"I get better," Clint responds, preening under the praise before tossing a thermos at Phil.

Phil opens the container and nearly moans when the smell of coffee hits him. "In case I haven't told you lately, I love you more than life itself."

"Are you talking to me or the coffee?"

Phil doesn't answer, forgoing a cup and drinking straight out of the thermos. He's confident that Clint knows how he feels, but looks over in concern when the silence stretches. Clint is frozen by the bags he's brought in and staring at Phil uncertainly.

"Clint? You know I meant you."

"What? Oh, yeah. I know, it's just…" Clint comes over to sit on the bed, biting at his lower lip nervously. "Did you… did you mean what you said the other night?"

It's takes Phil an embarrassingly long, sleep-deprived minute to figure out what Clint is talking about. They had been wading across a freezing cold river and doing their best to keep from getting pulled all the way under by the current and the weight of their gear. Phil could see the flashlights from the goons chasing them several hundred yards downriver, thankfully getting fainter as they walked in the opposite direction. It had been Clint's quick thinking—using his bow to shoot a tree branch into the trees—that had led their pursuers away. When they finally reached the other bank and pulled themselves out of the river, Phil had grabbed Clint's face in his cold hand and kissed him breathless. 

"If we get out of this alive," Phil had promised, "I'm going to find the nearest judge and marry you."

The sound of a snapping branch had startled them into movement and then they'd been too distracted and exhausted by the rest of their escape to discuss it.

"Yes, I meant it," Phil answers now, reaching out to take Clint's hand. "I love you and of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Clint surges forward to give Phil a messy, but enthusiastic, kiss before sitting back and beaming at him. "I love you, too. What about the other thing?"

"What other thing?"

"The thing about finding the nearest judge."

"Well… we could take a trip over to Boston after we—"

"I was kind of thinking today," Clint cuts in. "Turns out that town down there is the Las Vegas for gay hunters. There's a little chapel that specializes in quickie weddings."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah, I am." He scoots closer and grips Phil's hand in both of his. "Look. The way I see it, if we actually try and plan anything, it'll just be asking for some emergency to come along and ruin it. We'll have to keep it a secret from almost everyone anyway and Fury and Natasha probably won't stay mad at us for too long for not letting them be witnesses. I just… I love you Phil. I want to marry you and it doesn't matter to me how or where. What do you say?"

Phil can't answer immediately. The rational part of his brain is telling him that neither of them are in the right frame of mind to be making a decision of this magnitude. Phil's heart, however, is too busy swelling at the hopeful look on Clint's face. All of Clint's points are valid and Phil _knows_ without a shadow of a doubt that he'll never regret making Clint his husband.

"Okay. Yeah. Yes! Let's do it. Let's get married."

Clint whoops loudly and jumps off the bed, diving toward the discarded bags by the door. "They didn't have too much at the general store, but I really don't want to get married wearing someone else's blood, so…"

Three hours later, they stand together in the small chapel and pledge their lives to one another, wearing matching flannel shirts and ten dollar jeans. Phil can't look away from Clint's eyes, which shine with overwhelming love and happiness. Phil has never felt more beautiful.

 

 **2.**  
"I told you that suit was horrible," Clint mutters under his breath as his tailor looks Phil up and down in disdain.

"No, no. This will not do. You are too much man to be lost in _that,_ " the old man states and turns toward the back of the store, motioning for them to follow. "Follow me and I will fix everything."

Clint smirks smugly and sweeps a hand out for Phil to precede him as they follow the tailor.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Phil complains.

"You'll thank me for it later."

They make their way past the racks of clothing toward the back, Clint happily snagging shirts and ties and a fedora as they go. Phil looks behind him and glares at the pile of things in Clint's arms—he is absolutely _not_ wearing a hat, no matter how good Clint claims he looks in it. Clint only grins unrepentantly and nearly collides with Phil when he stops suddenly.

The tailor is waiting patiently at a small, raised platform and Phil cannot make his feet move any further. It's hilarious, really. Phil has faced off against any number of threats without breaking a sweat and he's suddenly intimidated by a little old man brandishing a measuring tape.

"Give us a minute, okay Jean?" Clint says quickly, dumping everything on a nearby table and steering Phil back out to the a deserted corner of the store where they can have a little privacy. "Jean's cool, I swear. He's not going to suddenly turn into an enemy agent and try to kills us. I've been coming here for years."

"I'm pretty sure we could take him if he did."

"Then what's the problem?"

Phil looks down at his feet, embarrassed by what he's about to confess. "I don't really like people touching me."

"You don't mind when _I_ touch you."

Phil raises his head, expecting to see Clint leering at him suggestively, but finds Clint looking at him with sincere confusion. "I don't mind _you_ … and select medical personnel when it's absolutely necessary."

"Huh. Okay. Well… I can maybe get Jean to show me how to do the measurements, but it will take a lot longer. He usually doesn't take more than ten or fifteen minutes."

"Why is it so important to you that I get a new suit?"

"Because I think you're hot and sexy and too much man to get lost in that suit."

It should sound corny and over-the-top, but Phil knows that Clint means every word. "You realize that I'm not actually supposed to be noticed?"

"People notice what they want to notice. It's not about that."

"Then what is it about?"

Clint steps closer, his eyes smoldering with feeling. "It's about your being confident in what and who you are. It's about you being as big of a badass wearing a suit as you are wearing field gear. It's about your appearance reflecting on the outside what I _know_ you are inside—a senior agent of SHIELD who can take anyone down with a gun or a pen or a fucking paper clip."

Phil has to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat. Clint has, in a single rant, exposed every fear Phil has about accepting his promotion out of the field and cut them to pieces. The depth of feeling he has for this man is boundless.

"I love you."

Clint blinks in surprise and then smiles back a little shyly. "Yeah? Uh, ditto. I mean… I, uh, love you too, Phil."

Phil pulls Clint in for a quick, but thorough kiss. "Badass, huh?"

"Total badass, sir."

"Then I guess it's time to show everyone how a badass should look."

 

 **1.**  
"Welcome back."

Clint doesn't give Phil a chance to respond before he's pressing him against the door and kissing him deeply, with a touch of desperation. Phil kisses back with equal fervor, throwing his head back with a moan as Clint breaks away to start mouthing at his jaw and neck.

"Want you so much. Missed you so fucking much. Been waiting forever to get you out of this suit," Clint mumbles against Phil's skin as his fingers begin attacking Phil's tie.

"Bed," Phil gasps, using his body to steer Clint toward the bedroom. Phil is nearly shaking with the desire to strip Clint naked and take him where they stand, but he has to acknowledge that they are both way beyond the age where having sex on the floor is going to end well.

They leave a trail of their clothing as they make their way through the apartment and Phil happily spends the next hour forgetting everything that happened on his trip to Malibu. It's not until the next morning that they see the aftermath of their single-mindedness.

"How did one of your socks end up in the kitchen sink?" Clint laughs, throwing the sock at Phil before pulling eggs out of the refrigerator to start breakfast.

"No idea. You're the one with perfect aim."

Clint laughs again and Phil grins before picking up his wrinkled suit jacket with a frown. He looks up when Clint wanders into the room. "Guess I'm gonna need to get it cleaned and pressed."

"Speaking of… I got you something."

"You did?" 

"Yeah, let me go get it. You go sit." Clint motions Phil toward the couch before going to the hall closet and bringing over a large bag. "Here."

Inside, Phil finds a half dozen shirts and matching ties. All of them, admittedly, are more fashionable than anything Phil would have picked out for himself. 

"I know Fury expects you in suits more than field gear now," Clint starts to explain when Phil doesn't say anything, "and I couldn't help noticing you didn't have too many of these in the closet. I can take them back if you don't like them."

"No! No, these are great. Much nicer than I would have chosen."

"Is that a good thing?"

"Yes. It's just… you bought me clothes." Nobody's bought Phil clothes since his mother back in high school.

"Is this a relationship step thing I don't know about? Was I supposed to wait to snoop in your closet and buy you clothes? Cuz I kind of thought I was in the clear since you asked me to stay in your apartment while you were gone."

"I have less relationship experience than you do," Phil reminds him. "It's just that nobody has ever bought me clothes before and… thank you. I mean it. These really are great."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Really. Thank you."

Phil leans over, intending to give Clint a quick kiss, but being able to touch and taste is still a novelty, and he can't help deepening the kiss and pressing Clint against the couch cushions.

"You know what else is great about my buying you shirts?" Clint asks a while later.

"What?" Phil asks back, distracted by the perfect view he has of Clint's ass while he roots around under the coffee table for his underwear.

Clint sits back on his heels, holding his found underwear up in triumph as he grins at Phil. "We're clearly not very patient when it comes to getting each other naked. This way, I won't have to feel guilty when I rip your shirts off you."

Phil looks around at the mess of clothing now scattered throughout the apartment and laughs.

"Then by all means, buy me all the shirts you want."

 

 **+1.**  
"Shhhh. Don't get up."

Phil kisses Clint's bare shoulder before reluctantly slipping out of the bed and into the shower. The last thing Phil wants to do is leave a naked Clint in his bed to fly across the country and deal with Tony Stark, but the director was adamant about it being part of Phil's new duties since his promotion. Phil reminds himself that, without the promotion, Clint wouldn't be in his bed at all. 

SHIELD has a strict fraternization policy and the only way for Phil and Clint to finally act on their years of suppressed attraction was for Phil to accept the promotion Fury had offered him. Now that Phil is no longer Clint's field handler, they are free to pursue a real relationship, something they've taken full advantage of over the past month. This morning, however, Phil is reminded of several downsides to the promotion—more time spent apart from Clint, dealing with less-than-cooperative assets outside of SHIELD, and a far-from-ideal new wardrobe. 

Phil can't help but look longingly at the neatly hung row of tac jackets and pants in his closet before reaching for the new suit that Fury insisted he buy. Never a fan of shopping for clothes, Phil had taken the first thing the guy at the department store had suggested. He can only hope that he doesn't end up looking as awkward as he feels wearing the suit. 

It takes him four tries to get the tie on properly and Phil grits his teeth in frustration, wishing for the comforting weight of his thigh holster. He pulls on the jacket, moves his neck uncomfortably in the stiff collar, stares at his reflection in the mirror, and doesn't recognize himself. 

Phil closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, reminding himself firmly that he is the same man he was before he put on the suit. He has gotten through dozens of ops in much less comfortable circumstances and he will be damned if he'll let himself be defeated by a starched collar and tie. Opening his eyes, Phil also reminds himself of a better reason for suffering through the suit. 

"A naked Clint Barton in your bed," Phil says to his reflection in the mirror. " _Sex_ with a naked Clint Barton in your bed. Holding Clint in your arms as you fall asleep. Kissing Clint first thing in the morning. Clint kissing _you_ like you're the best thing he's ever tasted." Phil takes another deep breath and grins. "Totally worth looking like an accountant."

Fortified, he steps back into the bedroom, his smile softening when he finds an adorably rumpled and barely awake Clint sitting up in bed. 

"Wanted to say goodbye," Clint says around a huge yawn. 

Phil walks over to give him a kiss, humming happily when Clint wraps a hand around the back of his neck to lengthen the contact. 

"I'll be back soon," Phil promises as he straightens up. He's still ridiculously happy that Clint has agreed to stay in the apartment while Phil's gone.

"Kay," Clint responds and then blinks a few times, clearly having difficulty taking in Phil's appearance. 

Phil looks down at himself, checking to see if he's gotten toothpaste on his tie or left his fly undone, but sees nothing out of the order. "What is it?"

" _That's_ what you're wearing to Malibu to meet Tony Stark?"

Phil sighs, flopping down onto the bed next to Clint and dropping his forehead onto his shoulder. 

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No, I know," Phil interrupts Clint's apology. "It's horrible. I look like an accountant."

"A hot accountant," Clint counters, wrapping his arm around Phil comfortingly. Phil looks up with a roll of his eyes, but Clint isn't teasing. "I'm serious. If I knew an accountant that looked like you, I'd actually file my taxes."

Phil chuckles and gives Clint a kiss, feeling much lighter already. 

"If I didn't know how much you hate being late, I'd show you just how hot I think you are."

"Don't tempt me."

Clint reels Phil in for another kiss, deep and on the edge of filthy—a promise. Phil groans when they break apart, but he forces himself to lean away and let Clint smooth down his tie. 

"Go play nice with Stark and then come back to me. I'll strip you out of this suit and make sure you never forget all the amazing things you're hiding under it."

Phil stands and walks out of the apartment with his head held high and shoulders straight, Clint's words still ringing in his ears. They say that clothes make the man, but for Phil, it will always be what his man sees underneath that matters.

~ _fin_ ~

**Author's Note:**

> Where I found the store Phil mentions in the first section: [Great Men's Suit Shops in Paris](http://www.departures.com/articles/great-mens-suit-shops-in-paris)


End file.
